The Storyteller
by Sarah the nerd
Summary: Peter's kidnapped, MJ's injured, Harry's dead, and Ursula Ditkovich has mere hours to save New York... -2002 movieverse, slash, multiple pairings.
1. Chapter 1

_This is set in the Raimi movies universe, not long after Spider-Man 3. Pairings you can expect: Peter-Harry, Peter-MJ, and Ursula-Peter._

**The Storyteller**

It had been two months and three days since an epic superhero battle had broken out in New York, but most people had forgotten it by now. People tended to forget about these things pretty quickly; after all, they had people to look after and bills to pay and jobs to do, and you didn't have time to think about epic superhero battles every hour of your waking life. Not even if you knew most of the truth, which only a few people did.

"I'm writing a book," Ursula said.

Her father looked up, grunted, and went back to watching TV. After a few minutes, he walked over to her desk and stood over her.

"What about?"

"Spider-Man."

"Why?"

"Because he lives next door to us," Ursula didn't say. What she said was, "I don't know."

Her father returned to the television and she continued to write. It was hard to make the thoughts come- for what she knew wasn't exactly ancient history, but still happening all around her. And indeed, a few minutes later Peter knocked on her door. She opened it; her father wasn't listening.

"There's gonna be a delivery later," Peter told Ursula. "Just so you know."

Ursula noticed his downcast eyes: she suspected what the delivery was but she didn't want to say. "Okay. You alright?"

Peter nodded, a very slight nod. And then opened up to her. "It's Harry's stuff, my friend Harry's. Turns out he left everything to me."

"Oh," said Ursula. And then, "Do you want...do you want me to help you sort it out?"

Peter looked at her. It was a look of strange adoration, and while she knew it was platonic, a look a brother might give to an younger sister, it made her heart flip over.

"Yes," Peter said. "I'd like that."

* * *

When MJ arrived, she gave Ursula a small smile- Ursula smiled back. But then, when MJ and Peter hugged, she shrank back and felt out of place. Until Peter touched her arm.

"This won't be easy, it really won't," he said. "I mean, for me and MJ. So thank you. Sincerely."

Ursula's arm quivered, although she didn't wish it to. "S'okay."

MJ gave her an uncertain look. "I..." she began, and then looked to Peter. Peter cleared his throat. "You never met Harry," he said, "but you read about him in the news, right?"

"Yeah," Ursula said. She had already offered her condolences, but she felt like she should do it again. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"A lot of what the papers said wasn't true," MJ spoke up quietly. Ursula looked at her and noted that she seemed to have aged about ten years since she'd last seen her. "He was our friend. And Spider-Man's friend."

Ursula just nodded. "Um," she said.

"We'd better get on with it," Peter said. He lifted one of the many boxes stacked in the hall, and a basketball bounced out and thudded its way down the stairs before coming to a stop against the door. MJ and Peter looked at each other: Ursula started down the stairs to retrieve it. When she returned, Peter and MJ had disappeared into Peter's room. She followed them and handed the ball back. Peter seemed lost in thought.

"We'll donate a lot of this stuff," he said. "To the children's shelter. I'll keep the photographs, the personal stuff..." He bounced the ball against the floor, and Ursula observed the way it stuck to his hand. "No-one else will want it. There was _no-one_, no aunts or uncles or anything..." It was almost like he was the only one in the room, talking to himself. "Only me. Only us." A bell rang downstairs. "S' the rest," he said vaguely. "I'll go get it." He left the room and the basketball rolled into a corner. There was silence for a few seconds, and then MJ spoke.

"How long have you known?"

"For two months," Ursula answered. "Since the whole Sandman thing."

MJ sighed.

"S'pose I should've guessed," she said sadly. "S'pose...you'd have to have known something was going on, living here."

"I didn't tell anyone," Ursula said. "Not even my dad."

"Thank you," MJ said. For a minute Ursula thought she was going to hug her, but she didn't. "Don't tell Peter you know. He'd only worry."

"'Kay."

In the silence that followed, the two women heard Peter climbing upstairs with more boxes, and MJ went downstairs to help him. Ursula was left alone. She turned to the nearest box: it was full of paints, and paper, and a sketchbook. She moved the paints aside, but opened the sketchbook. She wasn't sure why she did such a thing. Her mind briefly flashed back to seventeen years ago, back in Russia, her father flinging her mother's books on a great bonfire in the garden, unread, unopened.

She examined the drawings, flicking through them quickly. There were landscapes, there were doodles...and there was _Peter_, crouched beneath a demon-like figure. She turned the page. There was Peter again, and again, and again. And there, on the second-last page, drawn with a shaking hand, he was _naked_-

She dropped the book like it was in flames. Peter and MJ came in. She shoved it behind the paints, trying to pretend she hadn't seen it- and it worked, the other two didn't seem to notice anything wrong.

"These are the last boxes," Peter said. He laid them gently on the floor. "Okay. This won't be fun. All Harry's personal stuff, we'll put to one side, I'll go over it later." And Ursula reddened, suddenly deeply aware of her terrible intrusion. "Clothes and books and things, they'll go to the shelter. Documents and clippings and stuff will- Ursula, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ursula said. She felt terribly guilty. "I, um, I'm fine."

As Peter kept talking, MJ squeezed her hand. Ursula was touched by the gesture, but suspected she didn't deserve it. And then suddenly Peter was placing a box into her hands. "Here," he said. "I'm not sure what to do with all this. Electronics and stuff..." He took an iphone out. "Ursula, do you want this?"

"Oh...no." She stared at the floor. "I don't think it'd feel right."

"I don't think he'd have minded. And you could use a new one."

"Your old one is ancient," MJ said, before biting her lip, clearly suddenly worried she'd drawn attention to the Ditkovich's poverty. "I mean, um. Harry really wouldn't have minded."

But Ursula shook her head. Peter put the device down, and he reached for the sketchbook- and then the sound of sirens blared through the air. He stopped.

"I, um." He looked at MJ, and then at Ursula. "Um." Suddenly, he pulled his own cell phone from his pocket. "I just got a message," he said with false brightness. "My boss. I need to nip out for a few minutes- see what he wants- okay?"

"Okay," recited both women.

"I won't be long." He reached down to MJ, kissed her cheek, and hurried away. MJ and Ursula heard the door slam- and MJ just sighed.

"It's gotten worse since Harry died. For him and for me. His hero complex went _way _into overdrive, and I'm just scared."

Ursula nodded. "I'm sorry."

"You know everything that's gone on, don't you? About Harry. And what happened two months ago."

"Yeah," Ursula said. "I, um, I read the papers. All of them said, he came to save Spider-Man with his dad's stuff- and his dad was the Green Goblin- and he died at that building site, something killed him."

MJ pulled herself off the floor, and sat on the bed, and gestured for Ursula to sit next to her. "I'll tell you everything, if you _swear _not to tell anyone else."

"I swear."

MJ stared out of the window, possibly looking out for Peter, as she recounted the story. "It happened when we were in high school, when we were visiting this lab- they were doing experiments- anyway, that's not the important part. This spider they were experimenting on, it escaped and bit him and that's what happened, that's how he got his powers." Ursula suspected that that _still_ wasn't the important part. "Peter lost his uncle when he was growing up, he lost so many people. And then there was Harry's father, he wasn't a nice guy to begin with- but then he started experimenting on himself for some reason, and went insane, and started killing people. He killed his company's competitors, tried to kill Peter's aunt, lots of horrible things. Peter stopped him, because that's what heroes do. And Harry didn't know what had happened, he just knew Spider-Man killed his dad. Except he didn't, he got himself killed. And _then _Harry found out who Peter really was, and he sort of went insane himself- until the bad things started to happen again. This guy- this guy I didn't know- he went to kill Peter, but Harry got in the way. Just like that."

Ursula nodded, slowly. MJ continued.

"There was the Sandman, too, but he's gone now. I don't know where he went, Peter doesn't either, but nothing more's been heard from him. The man who killed Harry- he died, but even now no-one's reported him missing, which says a lot I guess. And that's it really. That's the story."

Ursula swallowed. "I..." She wasn't sure what to say. "Thanks, for telling me."

"It's okay. But you can't tell Peter." She sighed. "And here we all are. Going through our dead friend's stuff. What an ending to the story, huh?"

Ursula nodded, for the final time. "Peter's not coming back for a while, is he?" she said.

"No. He's not."

"I..." The guilt was eating her up inside. "There's a bit of the story you might not know." She picked up the sketchbook and handed it to MJ. "It's not my business, I shouldn't have looked..." There was a _crash _from her father's room, god knew what he was doing, and she took that as a chance to disengage. "I oughta..." She ran.

Her father was sulking in his room, surrounded by piles of DVDs. "Shelf fell," he said, when she came in. "How are things going, with the dead friend?"

"I don't know."

"Aha, maybe now is your chance! With the boy. They are sad! They are on verge of breakup! You must swoop in, make yourself heard! That is how I met your mother."

Ursula shook her head at him. "They're not breaking up. They've just got stuff to deal with."

"Stuff! Always stuff with younger people. And him never having job, never having money, what do you and those other girls _see _in him..." But Ursula was tuning him out. She tuned him out for a good few minutes, until she thought she heard a _thud_, somewhere in the building- it had to be Peter coming back.

"I gotta go, Dad."

She wandered back to the other room, very slowly, even spending a minute checking the phone. She paused outside the door, making sure Peter was really there. He was, and he and MJ were whispering, and she didn't want to pry any more, she'd done enough, so she knocked-

"Come in," said MJ.

When she went in, Peter looked different- different, sad and lost. And he jumped up, on seeing her. "You shouldn't have looked at that thing," he said accusingly.

Ursula had simply never considered that one day, under some circumstances, Peter might be _angry _with her. She was struck dumb for just a second. "I-" she said. "I know. I'm sorry."

"She didn't mean to," MJ said, at the same time Peter said, "Wait, I'm not mad...I'm not mad at you. It's just, I feel the same, I feel like we invaded his privacy."

"_I_ did," said Ursula.

"I'm sure one of us would've done," MJ said gently. "These are Peter's things now, after all, not Harry's."

"I didn't mean to yell," Peter said, even though he hadn't. "I just...I never knew. It's so stupid!" Ursula noted the book was next to him, and he had one hand on it, his thumb stroking it tenderly. She wondered if he even knew he was doing that. "There's other drawings in there, even- even worse- different ones." The discomfort in his voice was painful to hear. Peter's hand left the book and clutched MJ's hand instead.

"He loved me," Peter said. "He loved me in...in _that way_."

"Peter-" said MJ.

"I didn't know- this is a big deal and I didn't know. He's dead, and I didn't know!" Ursula shrunk into the background, knowing this wasn't her domain. MJ didn't shrink at all. "He was _dying_, and he didn't tell me. Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because it was more important to him that you were his friend," MJ said steadily. "Whatever he thought, whatever he felt, _you _were more important. Okay?"

"Okay," said Peter slowly.

"Right," said MJ. "We've still got work to do. Important work. Let's do it."

* * *

When night fell, Ursula left, but MJ stayed in the room with Peter. She gave Ursula a sisterly hug, told her not to worry about anything and closed the door- and from the other side, Ursula thought she heard the _thump _of someone jumping on the windowsill. And the _thud _of a window closing.

She retreated to her room- her father was asleep. She wanted to sleep too, she had a horrible uneasy feeling of being thrust into a world she wasn't ready for, that wasn't even hers. She was quiet, and she was passive, and things _happened _to her, she didn't make them happen. But she had opened the book. She had let something out...

When she fell asleep, she dreamed about her mother- except she didn't really, she dreamed of the template that was her mother. She'd never known her, after all. She imagined a kind, smiling woman one minute- and the next, a forlorn ghost. She saw her as a writer, and an artist, and a scientist and a superhero, knowing she wasn't really seeing her at all...

Then Peter showed up, as he often did. She'd seen him before in her dreams. (In fact, she usually saw him the same way she now knew Harry had.) She watched him as he walked towards her, the world shimmering and turning into a romantic Paris cafe, instead of a deathtrap New York apartment. _Herself _shimmering and turning into something else. But something was wrong, something was happening, she was waking up...

Something _had _happened, was still happening, something had fallen down. She thought for a second that it was the DVD shelf again, but it was loud and ongoing and near. Next door. Something was happening to her friends...

She stood up and ran, still in her nightdress, stumbling out of her room. The building's one fire alarm started to go off as she flung open Peter's door. Smoke poured out, and surrounded her, and she heard Peter shout, his voice high and desperate.

"Ursula! Get out of here!"

She stumbled backward, and started shouting for her dad. He didn't show, of _course _he didn't. Then Mary Jane screamed, and that was what made Ursula take a breath and run into the room, knowing even as she did so that she'd be too late. She was. The front window was smashed into pieces, and the back half of the room was on fire...

"_Dad_!" she screamed.

Mary Jane was lying next to the bed, blood in her hair. Ursula knelt down next to her, choking on the smoke, and desperately afraid.

"MJ, wake up!"

She didn't. Ursula shook her.

"Mary Jane!"

Someone clunked a hand on her shoulder and shoved her aside. It was her father, his face mad with panic- something she'd never seen on him before. He practically threw her towards the door.

"Go! Go, girl! Call the ambulance!"

She stumbled out to the phone. As she did, the smoke caught in her throat and a coughing fit started, so painful it made her eyes water. _Peter does this every day_, she realised in horror, and she reached for the phone, and it rang.

She picked it up, still coughing, and had to shout to hear her own voice. "Hello?"

"Ursula," came Peter's voice. How had he known she'd pick the phone up? "You must be scared. I know you're scared! But don't call the police, you can't trust anyone right now, understand?"

"What?" The smoke was dying down. "Peter?"

"Ursula, I'm-" There was a shout in the background. Was he beating someone up while _still on the phone_? "-I'm in trouble. Is MJ okay?"

She wanted to lie but she knew the price of that. "No, she's- she's hurt."

There was a _crunch_, on the other end of the phone. "It's going to be up to you and your father now," Peter shouted. "You have to help MJ, you need to get her somewhere where they'll ask no questions. Got it?"

"Yeah." The smoke alarm blipped off, although whether because the smoke had cleared or because the battery was dead she didn't know. "Peter, I gotta know where you are."

"I'm in the back of a truck," Peter said. "There was one guard, but there isn't anymore, I knocked him out. There were all these guys, trained guys, they had guns and explosives and they're obviously not concerned about who gets in the way of them. They must need me for something, because they took my computer too. The one where I write about science experiments and stuff. And there's Oscorp equipment in here...stuff from Harry's company, stuff I think his people were working on." His voice was a whisper. "Ursula, I need you to remember all this in case I don't come back."

"_What_?"

"I'm going to try and get out of this truck, but I'm pretty sure the door's booby-trapped, and the guard is coming round. I'm going to _try_...I'm going to try so hard...but I'm only one guy."

"Peter, I know you're Spider-Man!"

"Oh thank God," said Peter. Then something cracked, and the line went dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Ursula ran back into Peter's room. Most of the electronics in the room were scattered on the floor, but the little clock by the bed said the time was two am. With the smoke dying out, the dark was closing in. Her father was still kneeling on the floor next to MJ.

"Ambulance, is it coming?"

"Dad-" She didn't know where to start. "Dad, this is important, you gotta take this in- Peter is Spider-Man."

He looked up, incredulous. "No!"

"Yes."

"_No_! He's so _tiny _and so _poor_!"

"It's him, I've known for ages."

"_Then why he never make rent_?"

"Who cares! Dad, he said we couldn't trust anyone, not even the police, and MJ's really hurt!" She knelt down, grabbed her father's shoulders, and related the important parts of the phone conversation. He gaped at her like a fish, even as he pressed a cloth to MJ's bleeding head.

"That stupid boy," he said when she was done. "Should be making honest living! Should be protecting his woman! Not running around in tight tights, getting landlord into trouble! Who will pay for this damage he's done, huh?"

"Dad!"

Her father stood up, holding MJ in his arms. "Okay. Enough talk. I take her to Andrei, doctor Andrei. Not safe to stay here, I think."

"Andrei?"

"Your mother's cousin's husband's boy, we are _relatives_, you not remember him?"

"Dad, he's only a medical student, he's not a proper doctor!"

"He good boy."

Ursula weighed up the options. "Okay, um, he won't ask questions?"

"We are relatives! With money passing hands! And as I said...good boy."

Ursula ran to the other room, retrieved her father's stash of emergency cash (less than she had hoped for), and stuffed it into his pockets as he made his way down the stairs.

"What," he said, "you think I need to make bribes?"

"Yes! This is really serious! You mustn't let anyone on the streets see MJ for a start, what if they're still after her?"

"They?"

"_The people who did this_!"

"Child! I am big man! I am more than capable of protecting girl!" He almost slipped on the stairs. "I take her in car. You...you not stay here. Understand?"

"Where should I go?"

Suddenly, MJ stirred.

"Don't...don't get involved..." she said weakly. "You just saw what it can do."

"You are going to doctor," Ursula's father said to her. She was still in his arms, and the whole tableau looked mighty weird. "Right now. I take you in car."

"Right," MJ said. Her eyes weren't focusing well. "Ursula, Mr Ditkovich, you can go stay with...with..." She was struggling to stay awake. "Have you got anywhere to go?"

"No." Ursula said. And her father nodded.

"Okay, you-" But she was falling back into unconciosuness. "You-" Ursula's father shook her.

"Stay awake! Lady!" Ursula grabbed her hand, although it did no good. "I take her to doctor, _now_!"

He ran to the door. Outside in the dark, in what sort of passed for the yard, a rusty old car sat and Ursula flung open the door for them. MJ was pushed into the front seat, still drifting in and out of conciousness.

"Ursula, don't-" she began, but then Ursula's father started up the car and in a cloud of smoke they were gone. Or mostly gone, because her father shouted back:

"You stay safe! You just small girl!"

And then they really were gone.

* * *

Ursula went to Peter's room. The window was missing, as was some of the wall. She knew the neighbours wouldn't have called the police, she was safe for the time being, although safe from what she didn't know.

She moved the sketchbook from where it lay on the floor- even touching it felt wrong now, although she didn't know why. And then she gathered up the other books that lay scattered. She had a feeling and she was pretty sure it was right: someone had been after what Harry had left behind. His company had been working on something and they'd hurt two people already to get to it-

Did they know the same thing she knew? They probably did. Maybe Harry had told them. Maybe the whole world knew that Peter was Spider-Man and she was just the last one to find out. It seemed like the sort of trick the universe might play...

She _liked_ him, she really really liked him, and now he was gone. Maybe he was dying. Maybe he was dead. But, to her amazement, she gritted her teeth and went to work.

She opened one of the books. It had nothing on the outside to identify it as once belonging to Harry; it was a plain blue notebook with a plastic cover. But she knew it was his, it had sat beneath the sketchbook in the box of his old things. She offered, in her head, another apology as she leafed through the pages-

_There are other things I could do. Doesn't have to end so badly. If he dies I die, I always knew that, but I don't really want to die, not all the time._

Ursula winced. She flipped over a few pages, looking for any mention of Oscorp or science projects or, in fact, anything at all that didn't involve Peter, Mary Jane, or Harry's father. But only towards the end did the full story start to form:

_I didn't want to be like this, I wanted to be normal, normal guy with a normal girlfriend. But I've only ever liked one girl and she's taken, and I guess no-one ever gets to know about the boys._

_I can't ever be normal now, Dad made sure of that. I think people are starting to realese _(While Harry was a good writer, he couldn't spell worth a damn) _that other things are going on with me, things even worse than all the drinking. They said if I wanted to stay on at the company, I had to go to therapy..._

She flipped forward again, not wanting to dwell too long on someone else's misery. A couple of pages ahead-

_Therapy is going ok, as ok as it can be considering. Its just one guy, part of the company, his name's Hamilton. I hear Dad's voice whenever he talks. Actually, I hear Dad's voice all the time. There's all this unrest in the company, people talking about layoffs and downsizing and...things. It doesn't look good. People glare at me in the coridors, they think its my fault, even though Oscorp isn't actually mine cept in name._

The next page talked about Peter in graphic detail, very graphic detail. She blushed, flipped it over, and offered an out-loud "Sorry" to the ceiling.

_I think Hamilton knows I'm gay, he asked right out last session. I didn't know what to say so I guess that proved it. I'm not going back to therapy now, so they probably won't want me at work either. There's pretty much nothing left for me now except to kill Peter and die. I don't know how to do it. He probably shouldn't suffer too much._

_But Peter deserves to die, look what he did to the world, look what he did to me. Even when he's not around he's still there, sometimes I think he's just mocking me. Someone's been on my computer...or I think someone has. I forget. It had to be him._

Ursula noticed something then. (She almost missed it, she was absorbed in the story). There was something sticking out between the last page and the back cover, a thin, folded piece of paper. She read the last paragraph of Harry's diary-

_I feel bad for Peter's aunt the most. And MJ, but she's really strong, she'll be okay. I can do it tomorrow night...I'll go see MJ's play first. I'll give it my best shot, I'll do what Dad would have done. But the world's better off without any of us, no Spider-Man, no Goblins..._

-and took the paper out and unfolded it.

It was an printed email. Harry's email was the recipient, but the sender was a name she didn't recognise. The message itself was long and detailed, and she scanned it for choice phrases:

_...Though the general public is unaware (and will remain so), we know the truth behind the massacre at Quest Aerospace in 2002. The information is there for anyone wishing to look. While the loss of life is regrettable, Norman Osborn's actions saved our company, and many jobs._

_With the company in jeopardy once again, we are grateful you understand our need to take desperate measures..._

"Oh," Ursula said aloud.

It got worse. There was a list of names, names and addresses of high-up CEOs of other industries. A hit list.

_You will of course be aware that while the name Green Goblin is copyrighted to the Daily Bugle, the armour and the weaponry are still the property of Oscorp. This contact contitutes a lease of that equipment, in the best interests of the company..._

Ursula let the wheels turn in her head. Harry's company was on the brink of collapse. Someone had hired him- well, the Goblin- to kill the competition. Had he _done_ it? She knew very little about Harry, but she doubted that he, like his father, was a mass murderer.

At least she had an idea of what was going on now. She scanned the list of names and addresses, trying to remember if she'd seen any of them in the papers. If so many people had been killed in mysterious circumstances she'd have heard about it, surely?

Finally, knowing that time was of the essence, she gathered up the paper and ran downstairs to the building's one computer. After an age it booted up, and after another age it connected to the Internet. She Googled every name on the list; all were alive and well.

So now what? Was someone going to just kill them all anyway? What did they want Peter for? If they knew he was Spider-Man (and they probably did, they seemed to know everything) they probably wanted him kept out of the way, or maybe even _dead_...

She longed for the phone to ring again but it didn't. She went back upstairs and tried to think, her eyes blinking fast to keep out the tears. (After all, it was by anyone's standards a horrible day.) How many people were in on this? Should she take a risk and call the police, should she take a risk and call _Peter_?

What would MJ do?

She found her dad's backpack lying amongst the DVDs in his room, and retrieved it. She dropped Harry's diary, the printout and a pen inside. And then a kitchen knife. She zipped the bag up, but then stood there helplessly. She took the knife out and then put it back in again. Her hands were _shaking_...

The phone rang.

She ran to the hall and grabbed it. "Peter?" she yelled. Then it occured to her it might not be him. "Um."

"Ursula," Peter said. "Tell me MJ's okay."

"My dad took her to someone we know, a med student, she'll be okay." She was amazed how calm she sounded. "Peter, where are you?"

"I'm at the Quest Aerospace science lab. Building five, on Lee Street," Peter told her, also sounding calm. "Things are worse than we realised. They drugged me, Ursula, drugged me and locked me up- but they forgot to check me for a cell phone, and they forgot that I have _friends._" Now the calmness had gone. "I'm going to explain this best I can, before someone hears me. I can't move my legs and my arms are starting to go. This building is rigged to explode."

"_What_?"

"It's true. I may not make it out of this, Ursula, I'm sorry. In the top desk of my drawers there's some letters, can you make sure they get to the people they're meant for? Please."

"But you're not-"

"Please."

"Okay."

"Good." Peter was silent for a second, Ursula thought someone might be walking past the room he was locked in. "Okay. It gets worse, I'm afraid, are you ready?"

"Yes."

"These people at Oscorp know who I am- I think they must have found out from Harry somehow," Ursula of course knew some of this story, but she didn't want to interupt. "Anyway, they- I think Harry was involved, before he, um- they want to kill off all their competitors. And the plan is to frame me for it, that's why they took my laptop. I'm not sure, but I think they've set it up to trigger the explosion." Silence again for a few seconds. "By the end of the night I'll be dead, although presumably they've kept me far enough from the explosion so my body will be able to be identified. I'm in costume, by the way." Despite the horror of the situation, this confirmed something Ursula had often wondered, whether Peter slept in his costume or not. "And Peter Parker's laptop will have something on it that triggered the explosion and killed thousands of people."

"_Thousands of people_?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it gets even worse," Peter said. "The people who kidnapped me don't know, they're not scientists, but _I _am. I've seen a lot of crazy experiments and this place has _tons _of dangerous stuff. Remember the Sandman? He got started in this place. They were up to something very bad, that night...ever since they've been working on technology that can turn whole buildings to dust, I _know_, I keep up with these things. If this building explodes, there may well be a million Sandmans...or worse." Ursula heard nothing for a second except her beating heart. "Half the city might turn to dust."

Silence. Ursula didn't know what to say, and she thought Peter might have to stop talking again. But then he said, "Are you there?"

"Yes," she said. "Um...are you _sure_?"

"I'm sure."

There were a million other things she could have said. But she said, "What do you need me to do?"

She didn't expect what came next. She was _nothing _compared to Peter. He had saved hundreds of lives, was an actual genius, had friends prepared to die for him- she was just sort of _there_, still living with her father, working in his shop downstairs, watching from the window while others clung to the walls. But he said,

"I need you to arm yourself as best you can, and I need you to come and rescue me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh," said Ursula, for about the hundredth time that day.

"I don't ask this lightly," Peter said. "I honestly don't. I've lost one friend already, I nearly lost MJ just hours ago. But I'm pretty sure you have it in you, I've _seen _you, just as you've seen me."

She didn't know how to answer. And time was running out, Peter could go off the line any minute. "What do I need?" she asked. "I mean, for weapons."

"There's a taser gun under my bed. Take that, and take the pepper spray that's in the bottom drawer. You need to-" Suddenly his voice lowered. "They're coming down the corridor. I...I have to go." And he hung up. Ursula hung up her phone too, breathing deeply to calm herself down.

She went back to the bag. She took out the knife, then went into Peter's room to find what she needed. She could see the moon through the hole in the wall: someone might well call the cops when they finally noticed it. _If _they were still alive by that point...

She felt sick, felt terrible, but she collected up the weapons. Then she remembered something else- she went to the desk, opened the drawer, took out the letters. Maybe they'd be safer with her? But she instantly dismissed that idea. She looked at them.

One was for MJ, one was for Peter's aunt, and one was for Harry. Except- there was a fourth one, different envelope, more recent maybe. She turned it over. _Ursula_, it said.

It was for her, so she could have opened it, but she didn't dare. She put it in her pocket, put the rest on the table- and she ran.

* * *

She made a stop first at the 24-hour internet cafe at the end of the road, and printed out a map to Quest Labs. Not having a single printer in her own building, it seemed the best option. She tucked it into her pocket, and continued on.

Halfway there, standing in the dark consulting the map, her cell phone rang. She thought just for a second that it might be Peter, but then remembered that he didn't know her cell phone number. In fact, only one person did-

"Girl," said her father. "Mary Jane in stable condition. Andrei actually pretty good doctor. Where are you?"

Ursula considered lying. She loved her father, and she was thinking of the danger she could put him in. Then she considered how much danger he was in anyway. "Dad, I went to find Peter."

"Idiot," said her father. But there was something else in his voice, something Ursula had never heard from him, a sort of _pride_. "How you know where he is?"

"He called me. He's okay." Now she was lying. "Some people took him and locked him up, but they've gone now. Dad, I promise I'll be safe. You have to stay where you are and look after MJ, just in case, you know?"

"It not sound like you be safe," said her father. "These are men who nearly kill woman!"

"I have Peter's taser gun."

Her father was silent. "I too have gun, Andrei's gun. We on watch for bad men," he said. "Andrei is useless in fight, I can tell. ANDREI, THAT NOT HOW TO HOLD A GUN!" he suddenly bellowed, causing Ursula to jump. Then he swore in Russian. Ursula recognised the words 'blow' 'off' and 'scrotum'. "Ursula. You call me or send message every half hour. If not I take gun and come looking. Peter's woman have to take chances. _You _much more important. Now, tell me where you go!"

Ursula told him, her heart thumping in her chest. She instantly regretted it.

"Science lab! Science lab does not sound like safe place!"

"It's abandoned," Ursula lied. "Dad, it's okay, I promise."

"You got brave," her father said. "I don't like it." Then he hung up. Ursula worried about that: what if something had just happened to _make _him hang up...

But she had to shake it off, hard as it was. She placed her cell in her boot (its customary place, as it was too big for her tiny pockets) and kept walking.

* * *

When she reached the lab at last, it didn't look the way she'd imagined. It was a tall, threatening place surrounded by a high fence with signs marked DO NOT ENTER, true, but it didn't look the way her terrified imagination had made it look. She had thought she was headed for some dark gothic Frankenstein lab.

She leaned her head against the fence and looked at it. Some of the lights were on. She couldn't see any people, maybe they were all inside. It wasn't as if many people would be in on this sort of thing, she figured. But Peter was inside, and she had to get to him...

She put her hands on the fence and gradually, carefully, pulled herself up. She made it to the top, and in the process of climbing over to the other side, fell off. She hit the ground hard and very nearly let out a yell, but managed to stop herself at the last moment.

She pulled herself to her feet. She wasn't too badly hurt. Her knees and hands were grazed but that was it, she could at least still walk. Then she did the thing she suspected she should have done the minute she saw the building- she took the taser gun out. It felt weird in her hands.

She went to the building, right up to the nearest door, examining every shadow before she stepped into it...and no-one shot her. She took a deep breath, tried the door, it didn't open. She'd expected that, but what now? Maybe break a window? What if breaking into the building also triggered an explosion? What if...

She deliberately didn't let herself think about it. She edged around to the nearest window, and hit it with the butt of the gun. A few hits and it broke. She leaned through the broken bit, located the latch, unlatched it-

-her hand came out bleeding.

She winced in pain. It wasn't a deep cut, but it hurt- why hadn't she thought to bring bandages? Or something? Now she was dripping blood down her t-shirt. Oh, and half the city was in danger.

She crawled through the open window and landed in an office. To her relief, it was empty. There were computers, scanners- all the normal office things. A good lack, she thought, of giant monsters.

But was she anywhere near where Peter was? She didn't know. But she _did _know it was time to send a text to her father, so she did- she set her phone to silent, too. And raised her gun in what she hoped was a threatening manner, and went to the door-

The door was locked with a keypad. Nine numbers glowed invitingly at her, but she didn't have a clue what the code was. She tried to think about what Peter would do, but it didn't work in this case, _he_ could just rip the door off.

She tried to think of something that would work. Harry had something to do with all this, maybe the number was something relating to him? But she doubted he picked the security numbers of a company he didn't work for. Maybe it was just something easy, something everyone would remember-

To her surprise, an old newspaper article she'd once read came into her head. It had said, most people didn't bother picking security numbers and just used 1-2-3-4. This was a big company, they probably wouldn't be so lax with their security, but it was worth a try-

She typed it in. The door opened. She darted through it, and praised her luck on the other side. What were the odds? But there was no time to stand around, there wasn't time for much at all. To her right was a flight of stairs, and she headed that way. She thought there was a chance that the top half of the building was where things were happening: that was how it was in films-

A distant memory fluttered into her head: a memory of being six or seven years old and climbing up to the unstable roof of the apartment they'd lived in then. It was a sunny day and she wanted to see the birds on the top of the building. She had crept away from her father and climbed all the way up there, oblivious to all danger. She had stared out at New York spread beneath her, the birds forgotten, until her father snatched her from the wonderful new place she'd discovered and shouted at her til she cried...

"I already lose wife," he had said to Ursula's grandfather, who had lived with them then. "I not lose daughter too. _Stupid _girl!"

She was on the ninth floor now, listening for sounds but hearing nothing. She wanted to call out for Peter, but she knew that would be a foolish move. She thought about her father. It was probably time to text him again-

Someone whacked her on the back of the head.

* * *

It hurt but it didn't knock her out. She yelled; a foolish mistake.

She stumbled around to face her assaliant. It was a man, a man about her age, a phone in one hand and a thin metal pole in the other. He wrenched the taser from her hand and flung it aside. He moved to hit her again, but he wasn't fast, she had the upper hand. Or she thought she did, she thought she had a chance, until he threw his weapon aside and grabbed her by the throat.

"Who sent you?" he roared.

A thousand possibilities flew through her head. "I'm-I'm a journalist. You're up to something terrible!" He responded by pushing her hard against the wall. "Let me go!"

"Oh no," the man said. "You're not going _anywhere_."

"Get off!"

"Bart!" called the man to someone else. Another man came into the corridor, this one welding a gun. "We gotta little rat sniffing around."

Ursula struggled as the gun was pressed to her face- and she was _terrified_, and she was showing it. "Please don't!"

"What d'ya think, Bart?" said the first man. "She hasn't got long to live anyway."

But Bart ignored him and pressed the gun even harder against her forehead. "Did Spider-Man send you?"

"What?" Even in her terror, she managed to lie...and she was getting very good at it. "Has he got something to do with all this?"

Slowly, the gun was lowered. "Lock her up." Bart said. "She might be useful later. Oh, and take her stuff, she won't be needing it."

The man ripped the bag from her, and shoved her away from the wall. Between them, they pushed her into the nearest room- another office, a smaller one- and slammed and locked the door. She was trapped in the darkness, and she was all alone.


	4. Chapter 4

Too afraid to have struggled much, too afraid of everything now, Ursula lay where she had been thrown...

...until she slowly rose.

Crying a little, she leaned against a desk. She tried to think of a way out of the situation, but nothing came to her. She thought of her father- although she herself would almost certainly die before the day was over, her father probably wouldn't have much time left to mourn her. Should she call him...?

But in the end, she didn't, she couldn't. Not yet. Instead, she reached into her pocket and plucked out the envelope. She spent far too long examining her name on the front, thinking of Peter, thinking of them all, before she opened it.

_Ursula-_

_If you're reading this I'm almost certainly dead, and I'm sorry about that. I left some money under my mattress to pay any excess rent. If that isn't enough, your father can sell whatever's left in my room, whatever doesn't go to my aunt._

_These letters are always really hard to write. I know you liked me and I'm sorry I couldn't like you in the same way. I'm sure there's someone out there for you. Hopefully someone more reliable and with less secrets than me._

_The truth must be out if you're reading this letter. I'm sorry you didn't know. You and your father had every right to know, you were living under the same roof as me, but I thought the truth would only put you in danger. I hope it didn't. I hope you're okay, and that you go on to live a long and happy life._

_Take care of my friends. I'm asking you that because you take care of everyone, including me. And you're braver than you know: it took me years and years to approach the person I liked and offer them a bite to eat, but you did it in a matter of months. Because you thought I could use a friend._

_I think that's all I need to say. -Peter_

She read it again and again- and then the lights in the corridor went out and she was plunged into darkness. She panicked, grasping the letter to her chest. Then some sort of emergency light came on somewhere, and the room lit up with a dull green glow.

She took a deep breath. She put the letter away, every word of it already stamped on her heart, and stood up. What should she do now? What _could _she do? This door didn't have a keypad, she couldn't pick the lock, she couldn't climb out of the window-

She couldn't climb out of the window?

But she could! Technically, she could. She was nine stories up, if she fell it was certain death, but she..._could_. Peter did it every day, he had superpowers admittedly, but it still took bravery and apparently she'd had that all along. It would be terrifying, it would be horrible, but-

She ran to look. There was a ledge, wide enough for her to walk on. And a very long, dark drop beyond that. All she had to do was break the window and walk to the next one. And break that too, while stumbling about in midair. She wasn't really going to do it, was she? _Her_! But she was, she was, she was.

In the end she couldn't bring herself to send a text to her father, it was too final and the thought of him reading it too terrible. She had to survive this, there was simply no alternative. She picked up a keyboard from the nearest desk, and plowed it into the window until it smashed, and stared out at the blackness beneath.

She seemed _so _high up, and her task seemed impossible. But she did it: she cleared away the broken glass with the keyboard and she stepped out. She didn't allow herself to think about it: one moment she was in the room and the next she was out on the ledge. She had lived all her life behind windows: now she had finally stepped out.

Hands on the wall, shaking, she begin to walk. Her thin frame gave her an advantage, and so did the lack of wind- it was a still night. She moved along, not looking down, so terrified. But the next window was closer than she realised-

-she heard voices down below.

She pressed herself against the wall, heart beating crazily, and in the quiet of the night she could hear them. The men who'd locked her up, and a few others, gathered down a black car down below.

"Any idea who that girl was?" said one of them.

"She's gotta be something to do with Parker or Osborn," said the man who'd hit her. "We found this stuff in her bag." Ursula saw him take out Harry's diary and drop it on the car hood. "Parker's girlfriend or something, maybe. Whatever she is, she ain't long for this world."

"Screw her. Where's Parker?"

"Locked up on the top floor. Best place, if you want the body to still be identifiable."

"Good..."

They were starting to get into the car. The last thing Ursula heard was, "This has been a great day," before the doors closed and they drove off. Ursula didn't allow herself even a moment to breathe, she walked slowly towards the window, one foot in front of the other. She reached it, with a little gasp...and then she cursed her stupidty: she'd forgotten to bring anything to break the next window with.

Alone and in peril, she felt like just sobbing. But she couldn't. Her stomach was lurching, her eyes were dripping, but there was too much at stake. People like Peter and MJ and Harry had sacrificed so much for people like her: it was time to pay them back. So, standing on a ledge nine stories up, in the middle of the night and with a black pit beneath, she knelt. She took her old brick-like phone from her boot, and, shaking, stood up.

She slammed it hard as she could against the glass, but it didn't break. Crying, she did it again and again and again, well aware of the danger, well aware of the ticking clock- she did it again and again-

And then, finally, it cracked. And then it smashed. She fell through it, cutting herself all over, but she was so relieved to be on solid ground that for a second she almost didn't care. As the pain came, horrible stinging pain, she started to properly cry.

But the building could explode any minute and she knew where Peter was now. She became aware of her surroundings for the first time- she was in a restroom. She could take a few seconds to wash her cuts, but she knew there wasn't time. Leaving a trail of blood, she started to run. Her arms were the most torn-up part of her; her legs were mostly alright. They propelled her out of the door and down the corridor, to the next stairwell, up the stairs. She was on the top floor, she started to yell...

"Peter!"

She didn't expect an answer, and indeed none came. And there were loads of locked doors, and he could be behind any of them. She fled down the corridor, pounding at all the doors, leaving streaks of blood across them. She was bleeding badly, and she was starting to properly notice. It was absolute agony. "PETER!"

"Here," came a voice.

It was Peter's voice all right. It was weak, as if he'd saved his strength up for hours to be able to call. Ursula ran to the right door, knowing she had no way of opening it- but she was in luck; this one opened from the outside. She heard the click of the lock disengaging and she charged in.

Peter was lying motionless on the floor, but his eyes were fixed on her now. They widened. And he whispered, "You're bleeding!"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Is MJ okay?"

"Yeah, she is."

"Good..." His voice, already quiet, was starting to fade. "Ursula, I can't move, I can barely talk. My laptop's set up over there, and...and I think you'll be able to use it to stop the explosion. You need to listen closely." But he was falling into unconciousness, Ursula had seen it once already, she could tell. "I...there's a backdoor password. There's a tiny button on the back of the laptop, press it..."

She did, and she heard the insides of the laptop whir. And then she heard something else, a voice echoing through the building.

"_Evacuation in one minute. All personnel proceed to emergency exits. Evacuation in one minute._"

For the first time she properly accepted it: she was going to die there. The computer was stuck on a password screen, and she turned to ask Peter what it was, but he was lying with his eyes closed. She ran over and shook him.

"Peter! Wake up! Please!"

"Don't die," Peter whispered, and Ursula knew he wasn't talking to her. He was delirious and far away. "You saved my life...don't die."

"It's me," Ursula whispered back to him. "Peter, help me!"

But he couldn't. He was out of it, and she was all alone. She shook him again, helplessly, praying he wasn't dead. He was clutching a phone in his left hand, Harry's phone- could she use it? She could call her father, apologize for dying. But he would be dying too. Half the city would be! Unless, of course-

"_Evacuation in forty-six seconds," _said the voice.

She ran back to the computer. She had no idea how many tries she got at the password, but she knew, she had _seen_ it.

_Harry_, she typed. The screen flickered, it suddenly lit up in a white glow, and then a message read PASSWORD ACCEPTED.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't over yet. The countdown was on thirty seconds when the computer finally loaded up. Ursula was panicking, almost crying, but then a little program popped up. She didn't have time to read what the text said, she just saw a little button that said _Abort_. She pressed it. _Are you sure? _it asked.

"_Yes_!" she screamed, pressing the button.

She thought she heard something somewhere power down- a noise that had been in the background suddenly stopping. But the countdown continued. In desperate panic, she waited. She crawled to Peter and grabbed his hand. Then the countdown reached zero...and then it stopped. Nothing happened.

She made a sound she barely recognised as human and coming from her. She collapsed on top of Peter, sobbing, blood dripping off her hands and onto him. Then she remembered, he was still very ill, possibly even dying, she needed to help him. She stood up, her legs almost giving way- and then the door opened, and her father burst in.

She thought she was imagining him until he ran and picked her up. He was shouting her name, but she barely heard him. He picked her up, and then he turned to Peter- he took a balaclava from his pocket and put it over Peter's head, just as some more people burst in. Through her blurred vision, Ursula saw Andrei- he'd barely changed since they both were kids. And behind him, there were some policemen.

"Dad," Ursula choked. "Dad, you gotta help Peter-"

"Hush now," her father said. "I take you home, I take you home right now..." And she felt herself almost collapsing. She wasn't really aware of the next five minutes: she heard lots of shouting, and the feeling of being carried downstairs, and then a sudden rush of fresh air. She was outside. The sun was slowly rising. In the increasing daylight, she saw something on the floor-

"Dad, hang on a sec," she said dizzily. "Can you- can you pick that up? It's important."

Her father leaned over and picked up Harry's diary from the ground.

* * *

When she awoke, the diary was the first thing she saw...but then she saw who was holding it: it was Peter. He was sitting on the end of her bed. He'd never been into her room before, and for a minute she thought she might be dreaming, that it _all _might have been a dream. And yet...there was still pain, plenty of pain, in her arms.

"Hi," Peter said.

"Hi..."

"It's okay, it's only been a day," Peter said gently. Ursula raised herself up on her elbows. "Your cousin fixed you up. And me."

"What's...where's my dad?"

Peter turned his head and Ursula followed his line of sight. Her dad was standing in the doorway, and he looked exhausted.

"You do good," he said to her. "You do so good. I tell you, girl, I have shit scared out of me." But Ursula could only smile a little at that.

"The men who did all this, the cops have picked them up," Peter said. "I made sure of that. And MJ's fine, and my identity is safe-"

"Thanks to me," Ursula's father said with pride.

"Yes. The two of you saved my life...and Ursula, you saved _thousands _of lives." The admiration in his eyes seemed incredible to her, she had never thought she'd see something so, so _great_. "MJ's resting, at her own apartment. She'll be along later, and she'll want to see you..."

"World must know!" Ursula's father suddenly interupted. "World must know, what my girl did! Papers, televison, magazines, they must be told!"

"Dad, we can't tell anyone," Ursula said. "It'd put us all in more danger. We can't, ever..."

"So they not know?" Her father folded his arms. "They not care, that you save so many? _Him_, he get key to the city!"

Peter looked away as if remembering something awful. "I wish it worked the way we wanted it to," he said. "I really, really do."

"It doesn't matter," Ursula said. Maybe in a tiny, tiny part of her soul, she wished it was different...but she knew that was just some base intinct, something she would never feed. "Dad, we're _alive_."

Peter nodded. "Elya," he said to Ursula's dad, using his first name for the first time since they'd all known each other, "can you give us a minute? Just a minute."

Ursula's dad looked at both of them. "Why not?," he said. Then he actually winked at Ursula before he went out, and that raised her spirits although she knew he was wrong. This wasn't going to be that conversation; that conversation would never come. And she was alright about that. More than alright.

"You guessed my password," Peter said to her. "I set it up before I even knew you. Ursula...I...how did you know whose name it was?"

She didn't know how to answer. So she went with her gut. "You loved Harry, didn't you?"

"Not in the same way I love MJ."

"But you did, and I...you _had_ something. I dunno what it was, and it's not my business, I just...I just knew."

Peter nodded slowly. He looked immeasurably sad. "I guess you did," he said. He raised the diary. "Thank you for recovering this, Ursula." He kissed her on the cheek, and then he left, and Ursula knew that was the end of the story of Peter and Harry, or it was the last she would hear of it from Peter, she was sure it would continue at night-time and in memories and in the back of a heart...

She heard Peter walking down the stairs and then he heard the door close. She leaned back and slept.

* * *

Days passed, she got better, and MJ came to visit.

"Can you walk?" she asked. Ursula nodded. "You can't have been out of the house in days. Let's go for a walk."

So they did. It was slow: Ursula's arms and legs were still sore. But eventually they wound their way through the streets of New York, and ended up at where Ursula had suspected they'd end up: a grave.

"Hey, Harry. It's me," MJ said. "And this is my friend, Ursula."

"Hello," said Ursula, quietly. MJ lit a cigarette and leaned against the gravestone. To others that might have seemed hugely inappropriate, but Ursula recognised the gesture for what it was. Your friends didn't stop being your friends just because they were dead.

"Come sit down," MJ said, and Ursula did. She sat facing her, hands knotted in her lap, unable to take her eyes off the gravestone. There were fresh flowers there, red and yellow ones. Roses.

"It's such a long and complicated story," MJ said. Ursula nodded, knowing she needed to talk, knowing it was important to let her. "The people at Harry's company were going to convince him to kill their competitors, just like Harry's father did once upon a time. They thought he would, because he was insane...they thought that was all it took to turn someone into a murderer. And they thought they'd get away with it, because...because Harry was schizophrenic, gay and pretty much alone and most people don't care about people like that. Anyway, Harry didn't do it. Didn't even think about it."

Ursula nodded.

"Then he died. That kinda screwed up their plan. But they'd been looking in Harry's diaries...they were just looking for stuff to discredit him, but they found the big secret out. So of course Peter was the perfect new scapegoat, everyone would expect it, Spider-Man finally gone bad. And there being a, a thing between him and Harry." Ursula had been waiting for that. She opened her mouth to speak, but MJ got there first.

"It's okay. I can deal," she said. "I know how crazy human hearts are, I learned that from my parents. And we're actually talking more now than we were a few months ago. But I do wish none of this had happened, I wish a lot of things hadn't happened." She sighed. "And I wish people would stop trying to kill us."

Ursula suspected she would be the only one in all the world, from that moment on, to hear things like that. The things MJ could never tell Peter. She was really and truly MJ's friend now and friendship was, she realised, a terrifying but wonderful responsibilty. "MJ, we should go shopping or something."

MJ's eyes looked a little watery and she hastily wiped them, under the guise of wiping her nose. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, we don't actually have to buy anything...s'just...New York is still here, we might as well enjoy it."

MJ nodded. She looked grateful, and- unless it was a trick of the morning light- she looked like some of her old energy was coming back. She stubbed out her cigarette.

"Let's go do that," she said. She raised her fingers to her lips, and then pressed them to the grave. "Bye, Harry."

"Bye," Ursula echoed. Then she added. "It was good to meet you. Thank you for helping me."

* * *

When she got home that evening, her father was turning the first few pages of her book around in his hands. It wasn't much to look at, she had written it on scraps of spare paper, but he was looking at it like it was the most amazing piece of work he'd ever seen. He put it down, in a careful pile, when she came in.

"You good writer," he said stiffly. "Take after your mother."

"Thanks," she said, aware of what that meant. "Dad-"

"Sorry," her father said. "I sorry I not give you good life here. I sorry I not be great father. And...I _so _sorry I burnt your mother's things." He looked her right in the eyes, his lip trembling a bit. "Not right. She would kill me, if she knew. Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah, course," she said, not even thinking about it. "Always...Dad, you saved my life."

"I not do too badly," he said softly. Then, "Maybe Peter not have to pay rent this month."

"Maybe not."

"Next month, though!"

Ursula hugged him, something she hadn't done for years, and then she went into her room and wrote. She wrote about love that both destroyed and saved, about bad parents and good parents, about villany and heroism- and then she was done, and she looked at the city lit up through the hole in the wall -and in twenty-one years, she had never felt better.


End file.
